Antarah (Antar) Ibn Shaddad

Antarah Pours Out His Heart

My sin against Ablah is beyond remission;Became obvious when the morning of life Lent streaks of its white shaftsTo my hair, turning it gray. My own Ablah pierced my heart with arrows,Shot from her white-corona, black-iris eyes;Accurately hitting the mark!How amazing! Arrows projected from eyelidsWith no string or bow, ever scoring, never missingI have kept faith with my fellow tribesmenProtected their honorOften curbing my passionFor their playful and modest girls.Such mild and gentle beauties!Make tender branches enviousOf their graceful swaying, elegant swinging.

O dear Abode (of the Beloved),Should the clouds withhold their rain from you,Let my tears then pour down on you insteadO how pleasant the times I spentIn the land of Sharibba,Enjoying myself in the company ofMy friends and delicate women.When the twig of my youth was soft and pliable,How I amused myself,Admiring its blossoms and streaks.Everyday, the breeze of SharibbaComes to me laden with the sweet scentOf fragrant flowers unfolding at dawn

Each (maiden), like a straight leafy branch;A lover can only feast his eyesOn such beauty, (but not touch.)I am ever anxious to see Ablah;That is why I so often stop by her camp,Water my camels then depart.After being close to her, I can never content myselfWith only a word about her,Now she is far away

She will always remain my dearly beloved,Even if she should betray my trust, forsake me.My love for her will remain unchanged, undiminished,Nor will I ever stop thinking of her.Secretly and openly,I bemoan my separation from her;With such intensity of feelingThat softens the rocksO Abla stay safe and be happy in the Sand ValleyAway from enemies; fear not even if frightened.Know that your dwelling is protectedBy lions with mighty swordsThat smash iron helmets, slice thick armors.

How great are my folks Bani Abs!They have reached the pinnacle of honor;Attained the height of prestigeWhen they saw my horseCharge unrestrained, beneath thick clouds of dustThey thought it was bringing me nigh to doom.Then they quickly trod on my heels,Knowing that death is an unavoidable arrow, deflecting never.I plunged headlong into the dust-covered battleground,Atop my pitch black charger;Upon return, his body was blood covered,With human remains to its skin attached

I endeavored to be fair to my opponent,However, he wronged me,Resorting to mean, devious means.Finally, my sword dealt him a fair blow.Should others taunt me On account of the blackness of my skin,Let them keep in mindThat precious pearls are in shells contained